War and Peace : Book 02, Chapter 09

1869

People

(1828 - 1910) ~ Father of Christian Anarchism : In 1861, during the second of his European tours, Tolstoy met with Proudhon, with whom he exchanged ideas. Inspired by the encounter, Tolstoy returned to Yasnaya Polyana to found thirteen schools that were the first attempt to implement a practical model of libertarian education. (From : Anarchy Archives.) • "Only by recognizing the land as just such an article of common possession as the sun and air will you be able, without bias and justly, to establish the ownership of land among all men, according to any of the existing projects or according to some new project composed or chosen by you in common." (From : "To the Working People," by Leo Tolstoy, Yasnaya P....) • "There are people (we ourselves are such) who realize that our Government is very bad, and who struggle against it." (From : "A Letter to Russian Liberals," by Leo Tolstoy, Au....) • "It usually happens that when an idea which has been useful and even necessary in the past becomes superfluous, that idea, after a more or less prolonged struggle, yields its place to a new idea which was till then an ideal, but which thus becomes a present idea." (From : "Patriotism and Government," by Leo Tolstoy, May 1....)

CHAPTER IX

Pursued by the French army of a hundred thousand men under the command of
Bonaparte, encountering a population that was unfriendly to it, losing
confidence in its allies, suffering from shortness of supplies, and
compelled to act under conditions of war unlike anything that had been
foreseen, the Russian army of thirty-five thousand men commanded by
Kutúzov was hurriedly retreating along the Danube, stopping where
overtaken by the enemy and fighting rearguard actions only as far as
necessary to enable it to retreat without losing its heavy equipment.
There had been actions at Lambach, Amstetten, and Melk; but despite the
courage and endurance—acknowledged even by the enemy—with
which the Russians fought, the only consequence of these actions was a yet
more rapid retreat. Austrian troops that had escaped capture at Ulm and
had joined Kutúzov at Braunau now separated from the Russian army, and
Kutúzov was left with only his own weak and exhausted forces. The defense
of Vienna was no longer to be thought of. Instead of an offensive, the
plan of which, carefully prepared in accord with the modern science of
strategics, had been handed to Kutúzov when he was in Vienna by the
Austrian Hofkriegsrath, the sole and almost unattainable aim remaining for
him was to effect a junction with the forces that were advancing from
Russia, without losing his army as Mac had done at Ulm.

On the twenty-eighth of October Kutúzov with his army crossed to the left
bank of the Danube and took up a position for the first time with the
river between himself and the main body of the French. On the thirtieth he
attacked Mortier’s division, which was on the left bank, and broke it up.
In this action for the first time trophies were taken: banners, cannon,
and two enemy generals. For the first time, after a fortnight’s retreat,
the Russian troops had halted and after a fight had not only held the
field but had repulsed the French. Though the troops were ill-clad,
exhausted, and had lost a third of their number in killed, wounded, sick,
and stragglers; though a number of sick and wounded had been abandoned on
the other side of the Danube with a letter in which Kutúzov entrusted them
to the humanity of the enemy; and though the big hospitals and the houses
in Krems converted into military hospitals could no longer accommodate all
the sick and wounded, yet the stand made at Krems and the victory over
Mortier raised the spirits of the army considerably. Throughout the whole
army and at headquarters most joyful though erroneous rumors were rife of
the imaginary approach of columns from Russia, of some victory gained by
the Austrians, and of the retreat of the frightened Bonaparte.

Prince Andrew during the battle had been in attendance on the Austrian
General Schmidt, who was killed in the action. His horse had been wounded
under him and his own arm slightly grazed by a bullet. As a mark of the
commander in chief’s special favor he was sent with the news of this
victory to the Austrian court, now no longer at Vienna (which was
threatened by the French) but at Brünn. Despite his apparently delicate
build Prince Andrew could endure physical fatigue far better than many
very muscular men, and on the night of the battle, having arrived at Krems
excited but not weary, with dispatches from Dokhtúrov to Kutúzov, he was
sent immediately with a special dispatch to Brünn. To be so sent meant not
only a reward but an important step toward promotion.

The night was dark but starry, the road showed black in the snow that had
fallen the previous day—the day of the battle. Reviewing his
impressions of the recent battle, picturing pleasantly to himself the
impression his news of a victory would create, or recalling the sendoff
given him by the commander in chief and his fellow officers, Prince Andrew
was galloping along in a post chaise enjoying the feelings of a man who
has at length begun to attain a long-desired happiness. As soon as he
closed his eyes his ears seemed filled with the rattle of the wheels and
the sensation of victory. Then he began to imagine that the Russians were
running away and that he himself was killed, but he quickly roused himself
with a feeling of joy, as if learning afresh that this was not so but that
on the contrary the French had run away. He again recalled all the details
of the victory and his own calm courage during the battle, and feeling
reassured he dozed off.... The dark starry night was followed by a bright
cheerful morning. The snow was thawing in the sunshine, the horses
galloped quickly, and on both sides of the road were forests of different
kinds, fields, and villages.

At one of the post stations he overtook a convoy of Russian wounded. The
Russian officer in charge of the transport lolled back in the front cart,
shouting and scolding a soldier with coarse abuse. In each of the long
German carts six or more pale, dirty, bandaged men were being jolted over
the stony road. Some of them were talking (he heard Russian words), others
were eating bread; the more severely wounded looked silently, with the
languid interest of sick children, at the envoy hurrying past them.

Prince Andrew told his driver to stop, and asked a soldier in what action
they had been wounded. “Day before yesterday, on the Danube,” answered the
soldier. Prince Andrew took out his purse and gave the soldier three gold
pieces.

“That’s for them all,” he said to the officer who came up.

“Get well soon, lads!” he continued, turning to the soldiers. “There’s
plenty to do still.”

“Good news!... Go on!” he shouted to the driver, and they galloped on.

It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the paved
streets of Brünn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, the
lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all that
atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so attractive to a
soldier after camp life. Despite his rapid journey and sleepless night,
Prince Andrew when he drove up to the palace felt even more vigorous and
alert than he had done the day before. Only his eyes gleamed feverishly
and his thoughts followed one another with extraordinary clearness and
rapidity. He again vividly recalled the details of the battle, no longer
dim, but definite and in the concise form in which he imagined himself
stating them to the Emperor Francis. He vividly imagined the casual
questions that might be put to him and the answers he would give. He
expected to be at once presented to the Emperor. At the chief entrance to
the palace, however, an official came running out to meet him, and
learning that he was a special messenger led him to another entrance.

“To the right from the corridor, Euer Hochgeboren! There you will find the
adjutant on duty,” said the official. “He will conduct you to the Minister
of War.”

The adjutant on duty, meeting Prince Andrew, asked him to wait, and went
in to the Minister of War. Five minutes later he returned and bowing with
particular courtesy ushered Prince Andrew before him along a corridor to
the cabinet where the Minister of War was at work. The adjutant by his
elaborate courtesy appeared to wish to ward off any attempt at familiarity
on the part of the Russian messenger.

Prince Andrew’s joyous feeling was considerably weakened as he approached
the door of the minister’s room. He felt offended, and without his
noticing it the feeling of offense immediately turned into one of disdain
which was quite uncalled for. His fertile mind instantly suggested to him
a point of view which gave him a right to despise the adjutant and the
minister. “Away from the smell of powder, they probably think it easy to
gain victories!” he thought. His eyes narrowed disdainfully, he entered
the room of the Minister of War with peculiarly deliberate steps. This
feeling of disdain was heightened when he saw the minister seated at a
large table reading some papers and making pencil notes on them, and for
the first two or three minutes taking no notice of his arrival. A wax
candle stood at each side of the minister’s bent bald head with its gray
temples. He went on reading to the end, without raising his eyes at the
opening of the door and the sound of footsteps.

“Take this and deliver it,” said he to his adjutant, handing him the
papers and still taking no notice of the special messenger.

Prince Andrew felt that either the actions of Kutúzov’s army interested
the Minister of War less than any of the other matters he was concerned
with, or he wanted to give the Russian special messenger that impression.
“But that is a matter of perfect indifference to me,” he thought. The
minister drew the remaining papers together, arranged them evenly, and
then raised his head. He had an intellectual and distinctive head, but the
instant he turned to Prince Andrew the firm, intelligent expression on his
face changed in a way evidently deliberate and habitual to him. His face
took on the stupid artificial smile (which does not even attempt to hide
its artificiality) of a man who is continually receiving many petitioners
one after another.

“From General Field Marshal Kutúzov?” he asked. “I hope it is good news?
There has been an encounter with Mortier? A victory? It was high time!”

He took the dispatch which was addressed to him and began to read it with
a mournful expression.

“Oh, my God! My God! Schmidt!” he exclaimed in German. “What a calamity!
What a calamity!”

Having glanced through the dispatch he laid it on the table and looked at
Prince Andrew, evidently considering something.

“Ah what a calamity! You say the affair was decisive? But Mortier is not
captured.” Again he pondered. “I am very glad you have brought good news,
though Schmidt’s death is a heavy price to pay for the victory. His
Majesty will no doubt wish to see you, but not today. I thank you! You
must have a rest. Be at the levee tomorrow after the parade. However, I
will let you know.”

The stupid smile, which had left his face while he was speaking,
reappeared.

“Au revoir! Thank you very much. His Majesty will probably desire to see
you,” he added, bowing his head.

When Prince Andrew left the palace he felt that all the interest and
happiness the victory had afforded him had been now left in the
indifferent hands of the Minister of War and the polite adjutant. The
whole tenor of his thoughts instantaneously changed; the battle seemed the
memory of a remote event long past.